


Strange and Familiar

by pippen2112



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Bondage, Campaign 2, Canon Related, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dream Sex, Dubious Consent, Egg Laying, Explicit Sexual Content, Other, Oviposition, Sex Pollen, Surprise Ending, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Wet Dream, lack of resolution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippen2112/pseuds/pippen2112
Summary: He drifts, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss. Cold nips at his skin, sinks into his flesh, leaves him aching but for what he doesn’t know.





	Strange and Familiar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zambo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zambo/gifts).



> So every time I try writing a canon adjacent smut fic, the upcoming episode ends up touching on it. There are no direct spoilers to Episode 53, but I figured I'd wait until it premiered before posting this.
> 
> Once again, inspiration goes out to Zambo for prompting Fjord/Uk'otoa smut. It's not quite the prompt, but if you squint its there. And all the love to CritGoals for enabling my bad behavior.
> 
> Dubious consent tag explained in the end notes.

_He drifts, falling deeper and deeper into the abyss. Cold nips at his skin, sinks into his flesh, leaves him aching but for what he doesn’t know._

_As his mind slowly awakens, something wraps around his legs, coiling upward and slowly pulling him farther. For a split second, he shouts in panic and the last of his air bubbles away. In its wake, the thick, freezing fluid fills him. He gasps, breathing through the strange and familiar sensation, but at least he won’t drown._

_He looks down at his legs and finds spongy gray tentacles winding up his legs. Dragging him below. He scrambles against the appendages, clawing his way free, but another tentacle bats his hands away before slinking up across his shoulders. He squirms and writhes, does everything he can think of to get free, but the water slows him. Gives the tentacles just enough time to coil around his torso and bind his arms to his sides._

_Flailing. Kicking. Thrashing. Nothing can shake the grapple._

_He can’t see through the murk below him, can’t see where the tentacles are coming from or what they’re dragging him toward, and fear tightens in his chest. Just as he wriggles an arm free, another tentacle winds around his throat._ Fuck!

_As he grabs for the tentacle, the great eye winks open, filling the dark depths with a yellow glow. A rumbling word echoes through his mind. “ **Patience.** ”_

_He freezes under the gaze, his pulse jumping as the tentacle slides up under his chin and smears across his mouth, leaving something sticky in its wake. But he can’t bring himself to open his mouth and ask what his patron wants, not with the tentacle prodding at his lips no matter how he shifts._

_Another rumble shakes him. He can’t be sure, but it almost sounds amused. “ **Consume.** ”_

You can’t be serious?

_The tentacle sweeps along the seam of his lips. The great eye narrows in around him. “ **Consume.** ”_

_Heat thrums in his veins at the order, turning his spine rigid and his cheeks hot despite the surrounding cold. Maybe he should’ve guessed that striking a deal with a sea monster would come to this, but he’s didn’t. And there’s no getting out of this now._

_Gazing up at his patron, he opens his mouth and lets the tentacle slither in. It presses out against his cheeks, trails over his soft palette, and fills his mouth with something viscous and salty. It seems to roll over his skin, warm to the touch and strangely solid. He swallows instinctively, working his tongue against the intrusion. Anything to get the strange taste out of his mouth. But as soon as he gets rid of the taste, more floods out in the tentacle’s wake._

_The part of the tentacle still wrapped around his throat pulses, almost like it’s stroking along his skin, and he gulps again at the sensation. The eye watches him closely, unblinking, unflinching. Waiting._

For what?

_Warmth swells in his stomach. It twitches and pulses for a moment before seeping into his limbs, leaving his skin prickling in its wake. Satisfied, the warmth settles low in his gut, pooling at his groin and sending a surge of his blood southward. As his cock thrums and fills, he turns his head to the side, trying to hide from view, but there’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. He can’t escape._

_Another tremulous chuckle. “ **Good.** ”_

_He gulps inadvertently, suckling at the tentacle spreading his lips._

_“ **Patience.** ”_

_More tentacles rise out of the murk, some thick and unyielding, some thin and dexterous. They curl around him, pushing up under his clothes and searching over every spare inch of skin. He can’t help gasping and groaning when they trail over his sensitive bits, frozen under his patron’s gaze. All the while, he hears that cavernous voice echoing in his head. “ **Learn. Grow. Provoke. Consume.”** He’s torn between bowing his head and obeying, or squirming and fighting so the tentacles have to hold him tight enough to bruise._

_When a pair of tentacle tease at the waistband of his trousers, he groans and sucks the heavy appendage already in his mouth, swallows every bit of slick it leaks for him. The heat in his gut burns brighter, hotter, more ravenously. He twitches and strains for more._

_The tentacles creep under his trousers. One wraps around his cock, squeezing firmly and stroking languidly. The other pushes farther down. Between his legs. Up toward his—_

_Another surge of heat flows through him. He throws his head back and moans, eyes squeezed shut. And then there’s sticky warmth spreading him wide and sliding into him and his patron’s all-encompassing voice._

“ **Reward.** ”

Fjord jerks awake, shivering. His breathing rasps, his heart throbs in his ears, and his jaw aches. His shirt sticks as he sits up in bed, and he can’t stifle a groan of discomfort as he moves. Not because his smalls are sticky with his spend, but because his gut is cramping.

And swollen.

His stomach is distended, and it was definitely flat when he fell asleep last night.

Fjord presses a hand to his side. Deep in his gut, a strange and familiar warmth pulses just out of sync with his heartbeat.

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've tagged this fic as dubious consent as it reflects the canon relationship between Fjord and Uk'otoa. In this fic, Fjord doesn't say no, but he doesn't say yes either. Especially not to waking up with a belly full of what he can only guess are baby demi-gods. I don't plan on continuing this story or writing a sequel, but if it eases your mind, feel free to imagine Fjord going to the M9 member of your choice for some...help allieviating his current predicament.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Questions, comments, and concrit welcome!


End file.
